


I Swore an Oath on My History

by theshipsfirstmate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4am fic, Angst, F/M, Post-4x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/pseuds/theshipsfirstmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post 4x08 Olicity angst.</p>
<p>“He needs two hands to count the times he’s been dropped into dangerous waters, but this might be the closest he’s ever come to drowning.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Swore an Oath on My History

_Post 4x08 angst. Not really a “fix-it” fic, more of a “where we’re at” fic.  
_

_Title from “[Even the Darkness Has Arms](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4O1weQ3oGAM)” by The Barr Brothers._

**I Swore an Oath on My History**

He’s keeping something from her. And she knows it.

She knows it, and what’s more, she’s certain that _he_ knows she’s onto him. That’s the worst part, that he’s doing it on purpose.

She gives him everything she’s got. She digs her nails into his chest, palm pressed just above his heart. She tells him she loves him, looks right into the depths of his eyes so he’ll know she means it. And still…

“It doesn’t matter, it’s over.”

His eyes smile when he says that, but she knows better than to be fooled. She’s seen that smile before, it feels like she’s seen it on the face of every man she’s ever known. But none like him, none she loved like this.

It’s the same smile he gave her just before he kissed her on the forehead and left her standing in the lair, biting her lip until she drew blood to keep from saying “I love you” to his back. It’s the smile he gives her when he’s pulling away. She’s doubted herself in this relationship, it feels like countless times, but she’s never doubted him until now.

Because the darkness she sees creeping up to cloud his vision, whatever it is that’s got him keeping secrets, it’s in there deep, and she can’t fix it if he won’t let her get a look. It’s terrifying and frustrating, when he turns into a mystery he doesn’t want her to solve. It’s the first time it’s really happened since they’ve been together, and she’s not sure she’s equipped to handle it now that her senses have been dulled by so many months of openness and honesty.

In a few short minutes, he’s snoring lightly on her shoulder and she slips out from underneath him. She’s always grateful when he sleeps soundly, but tonight, it’s for bitterly selfish reasons. She needs to think without him spooned in behind her, hot breath puffing against her neck. She puts a pillow under his head and tucks him under a blanket, cursing the memory of Vandal Savage for letting in a draft that sends a shiver up her spine.

Her heart clenches in her chest when she leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, tracing the stubble on his cheek lightly with her fingers. Even the smell of him, the tiny sound he makes in the back of his throat, reminds her how deep she is in this, how wholly she is in love with him. She thinks back to her conversation with her mother, what feels like a lifetime ago, remembers how simple she made it sound. Lost in each other. It’s a romantic idea, until you remember that it means you’re both still lost.

He promised to tell her all about it, she remembers as she climbs the stairs, leaving both the physical and metaphorical destruction to deal with tomorrow. And maybe he will. Maybe he just needs some more time and space, like she had. Maybe he just needs to sort through it and he’ll come back to her.

Maybe they’ll wake up tomorrow and he’ll remember she’s on his team.

Until then, he’s just lying to her.

* * *

He’s keeping something from her. And she knows it.

But he doesn’t know what to do. That’s the worst part. He needs two hands to count the times he’s been dropped into dangerous waters, but this might be the closest he’s ever come to drowning.

She comes at him, with lips that say she loves him and eyes that tell him it’s the truth, and he’s never hated himself more than when he lies to her while she’s smiling at him like that.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s over.”

He watches the light go out behind her eyes, and it’s like he’s seen it before. When Barry told him that they fought over William, that it had looked bad, he hadn’t really believed him. But in that split second, when he’s overcompensating with a sappy smile, it’s like he can see her walking away from him, tears spilling over as she backs away. And it’s terrifying.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust her. It’s that he doesn’t trust himself. This is what he tells himself, though the words ring false, even in his head. He’s certain he can’t have it all, this life has taught him that lesson in various painful ways. But if he tells her, and he screws things up, does he lose them both?

He has a _son_.

Living a lifetime in the shadows, working off his parents’ debt to this city, that burden pales in comparison to having a legacy of his own. It’s not something he had even thought about as a reckless frat boy, as The Hood, or even as The Arrow. For the majority of his life, the concept of offspring had seemed at worst, a nuisance, and at best, a risk he couldn’t afford.

Until her.

With Felicity, he saw it, and early on. Long before the Hoffmans started grilling them on pre-schools, there she was: a little girl with blonde hair and glasses, just like her mother in every important way, but especially in how much she loved him. He kept the idea to himself, knowing it wasn’t time yet, but secretly warmed the coldest parts of his heart with the knowledge that when she was ready, he would be too.

Instead, this is what life, fate, and his calculating mother have given him. A nine-year-old boy who knows nothing of him, and is almost certainly better off that way. But it’s not like he can walk away now. He’s given up more for the worst of his family, he can’t even consider abandoning what might be the best of them.

He’s not good enough for Felicity, he’s known that since he blinked his eyes open that day in the old Foundry and saw her standing there next to Digg, bloodied and scared, but strong. But what’s worse is, he’s not even sure that he’s _good_ for her, and this is just the latest reminder. Barry might be able to run fast enough to undo the things he’s gotten wrong the first time, but he’s lived and died all over this world, and he’ll always be Ollie Queen.

When he wakes on the couch in the early hours of the morning, pillow under his head, blanket tucked around him, he feels lonelier than he has in years. He remembers tucking himself into her neck, trying to erase his worries with the scent of her hair, the feel of her soft embrace. That she didn’t wake him up to go to bed makes his heart feel hollow in his chest, and he remembers the way she looked at him weeks ago, when she told him how scared she was of losing herself in him. Later, she said they were lost in each other. Right now, he just feels lost.

He promised to tell her all about it, and he still swears he will, when the time is right. She’ll be mad, but then she’ll be amazing, because she’s a better person than he is, by magnitudes of ten. She’ll help him handle it, the way she always has. She’s on his team.

Until then, he’s just lying to her.


End file.
